floating shrine - Connecting

A Closer Listen

Sometimes a micro-genre is lost to the point at which one wonders if it ever existed, apart from candy-glow daydreams.  Two decades ago, labels such as Spekk, flau and Noble specialized in a type of ambient glitch that sounded simultaneously like Pop Rocks, snow cones, wind chimes, glitter and melting ice.  After a series of trips to Japan, floating shrine has managed to excavate this sound.  One imagines these timbres bubbling up from wishing wells and music boxes, yearning to be heard once more.  Others walk by, but this artist is in no hurry.  The composer listens, writes down their stories, and takes them home to Australia, where he begins to work on Connecting.

The opening track, a collaboration with Wayd, is the strongest, so it’s no surprise it is the single.  The irony is that it is called “Empty” when it’s the fullest of pieces, a microcosm of toy box energy.  While all of the titles are contemplative, this one suggests a cup waiting to be filled.  Music box and piano set the stage, rising gently like grass in spring.  The glitches begin almost immediately, reminiscent of dial-up tones and skipping discs, earmarks of an earlier generation.  Midway through the track, huge chords descend like sunlight breaking through cumulus clouds, sending sparkles across gleaming skyscrapers, but then all but piano recede, like a sun-activated sculpture.

The field recordings become apparent in “Sitting Quietly,” a warm contrast to the electronic tones.  Chirping birds sit atop tiny robots, providing helpful directions.  In the next track, children play among the geese.  These juxtapositions are a perfect reflection of Japan, perhaps the nation that best exemplifies the co-existence of tranquil nature and gleaming technology.  In “A Moment by the River,” water rushes past a wild herd of tablets and smart phones; or is it the other way around? “Kintsugi” provides a final flash, a duet between placid piano and hyperactive electronic droplets. “Always Changing” slows the pace, a path to the pillow at the end of the day.  The composer falls asleep, dreaming of cherry blossoms.

The album is over as quickly as a sun shower.  Iridescent patterns shimmer in the puddles.  The children spill from beneath the wet awnings, eager to splash and play.  (Richard Allen)